Suddenly, the sky is no longer open, and it has been hidden by clouds. It seems like it's been hidden for years, but it's only been a week. At least with the rain comes humidity. Or is it the other way around?

I've been laying in bed until 12 these days. Sometimes longer. I snuggle with my dog and look up at the ceiling trying to figure out what to do.


All the great modern artists went to southern France to experience COLORS.
I want to go to a desert. I bet the skies are so vast and blue. And the sunsets will fill the sky with pinks, oranges, reds, and purples.
Ohh New Mexico.
I've been emailing Will. He told me to watch out, because if I want to go to New Mexico too much, I'll end up in New Mexico. And then I live in New Mexico.
I thought it was relatively funny.

So here is a Tao Te Ching
20.

Stop thinking, and end your problems.
What difference between yes and no?
What difference between success and failure?
Must you value what others value,
avoid what others avoid?
How ridiculous!

Other people are excited,
as though they were at a parade.
I alone don't care,
I alone am expressionless,
like an infant before it can smile.

Other people have what they need;
I alone possess nothing.
I alone drift about,
like someone without a home.
I am like an idiot, my mind is so empty.

Other people are bright;
I alone am dark.
Other people are sharp;
I alone am dull.
Other people have a purpose;
I alone don't know.
I drift like a wave on the ocean,
I blow as aimless as the wind.

I am different from ordinary people.
I drink from the Great Mother's breasts.

Thank you Mother Earth

Run run run

Feeling like running in your bones..
I tried to explain this concept to Keith last night. How I needed to get moving.
How I could feel it in my bones. That this was the right thing to do.
It was like that night, all those years ago. What? Three years almost?

Sally and I both got out of control. She ran as far away as she could, and I got lost in a house. And she had to be picked up by someone, and I almost got sexually attacked.

And after wards, when we found one another I said, "Can we drive to Stillwater?"
and we hugged one another, cried, and drove, though quite intoxicated, all the way to the river, and slept in the old red van.

And though this situation is much different, it feels like that need to leave and go to the river. Get away, and be changed forever.

That next morning, we walked, bare footed, along the river. At one point we realized I had my pants on inside out. We thought it was really funny, until we realized why they were inside out, and we both got quiet. We found some rocks to sit on and sat in silence looking at the water, looked at what was becoming of our lives.
As we drove back to Shoreview we were listening to "Homeward Bound" and I kept pressing the button to repeat the song. And we sang it over and over and over. We must have listened to it 10 times on that 20 minute drive.
She was leaving, and I would be staying. I was so mad that she was getting out of Minnesota. That she would soon be free.
We talked about running away. We talked about it throughout the rest of the summer. At one point I think we were both ready.

I think I'm ready to run.
It's funny, that I constantly think of my flights and frustrations as running. I never run physically run.
I always have this mystical place in mind as well. Whether it be the west, a cornfield, a river, San Francisco, New Mexico.

I've been listening to that song lately.. or rather the song has been finding me, San Francisco, I think it's a sign I need to get going.
This weekend I heard it at least 4 times. I haven't heard that song since my senior year of high school, really.
It's time.
I broke up with Keith last night.

Oh, girls, just wanna have fun

la la la love

Like a wild ethereal chorus planted at every corner
you surround me
hand shake, thanks,
you can harness me lover
the thing, love, crawls out of giving,
you, hypnotic leader better turn yourself happy or self destruct
you shine, you do,
brewing the smiles and the laughs
sound awake we turn in our separate beds
a swirly miss

OH HERE I GO

I have been listening to Kate Bush, "Hounds of Love" over and over since 9. It is 12.
I broke to listen to Bob Dylan, "Simple twist of Fate" and listened to that 5 times in a row.

I am realizing and breaking through my own prejudices this month I feel like. I'm excited to see what becomes of it. I read this article that told me there are 5 signs to decide a person is a female, and to accept it. But it takes us one or two to decide they are a male. We would rather label a person and accept their identity as a male rather than a woman.

So I thought of when I was in Olympia and dancing with this person, and trying to decide if it was a boy or a girl. And kept saying reasons why they were a girl, but had this overwhelming feeling of the male sex. And I kept listing things, hair style, boobs, clothing, but I still couldn't decide if this person was a male or female. But why the hell did it matter. I don't care which gender or sex I dance with, yet I was trying to figure it out. Why did it matter? There are only two sexes socially constructed, and people are put into boxes.

Ah.
I am constantly thinking about color and distance. And how things look blue in the distance. AS in, the farther something is from you, the more blue it looks. I really get that, seeing mountains in the distance. I get why people paint mountains blue, and sky lines as blue. I think that's so exciting. I love sitting next to something that is bright red, and actually FEELING the heat coming from the red. It's so brilliant.
My eyes are feeling the pressure of this new world.
Octopus... New Mexico? September?

I feel stuck. Why is it that I view college as the biggest mistake of my life, it binds me financially to my mom, who treats me like shit. She hasn't stopped yelling at me for three days now, and I haven't even seen her. What is wrong with her, when she spends all her time yelling at a voicemail machine? I feel sorry for her, because I can always make more money, but she doesn't seem to be able to make herself calmer, or a better person.

I've decided to just write on here all the time.
As I said, I have lots to say, and the ability to do so.

I think an artists colony would be the perfect idea.
I think we should go to the desert. Feeling philisophical. Octo- you are taking next year off? What do you guys think about spending 2 weeks at a youth hostile in September? New Mexico style? Bring a bunch of wood and paint? Go into the desert. Find some cacti? Meditate? Feel the sun?
I've never been in a desert. I hear Georgia O'keefe spent much time at a place in New Mexico called the "Ghost Ranch"
Maybe we can all start painting vaginas.

I feel stuck. And this idea of New Mexico just sounds awesome..
I'll look into it, if you guys are in.

Lying in my bed, smoking a cigarette and playing the song "Crimson and Clover" on repeat, is splendid, just splendid.

All day, every day

I have so much to say, constantly. And I am often times left un-amused, so I have much to say, with the ability to do so.

I sometimes dream about moving back in with my parents. I think it mainly has to do with my mom, and this unfinished business I constantly feel I have with her. I think we both have things to learn from one another. I wish she would take her vacation hours and come visit me. Just talking about it makes me weepy.
I also think, when you are away from a place, it is often romanticized.


I just spent an hour trying to make myself feel something, with nothing to show of it. Instead I looked at the ceiling and imagined it as though it were moving through time and space. And then I contemplated New Mexico. I met this woman at the book store yesertday that told me of a youth hostile in New Mexico. She even gave me the name. It's in Albuquerque. She told me I had to living in one place for at least 2 years though. We talked about the Tao of Pooh. And of Unitarian Universalists. Of artists. Van Gogh, poetry. Living in different cities. Of energy. And painting books that are in black and white don't make a lick of sense.

I bought a classic looking white dress. Short sleeves. Collar. Button up in the front. And when I spin in it, it fans out and gets really big.
I felt classic in it. I don't know when I'll get the balls to wear it. But I'm excited by the idea of owning it.

"Coffee went down the wrong pipe"

Every few days, I will be laying in bed, ignoring the sun or the clouds. And suddenly a violent sound comes from the bathroom and Keith is puking. Not because he's hung over. Not because he has the flu.
Just because in the mornings he gets sick. Or something.
It makes me feel really uncomfortable.
It makes me want to hide under the covers, actually.

But he always comes up with a cover, that is never convincing
"I stood up too fast."
"I got dizzy."
"I was swallowing my spit all night."
"Coffee went down the wrong pipe"

I sometimes wish I had my own bed. And so when I cannot sleep I could turn to that blank canvas in my room and paint. I've been having these thoughts pretty often..
I want to move to New Mexico.

Can I just float away?

No sleep drives me crazy. Everything affects me. One look and someone despises me, loathes me, is annoyed with me. Everything has a motive, a reason, and it's all pitted against me. Everyone's movements seem too contrived, part of a scheme or a reaction to something I've done. I pace around in hysteria thinking HolyShitI'mANutCase and they all know it! What a pain anxiety is!

--

Sometimes, for as long as I remember, I get this inexplicable feeling when I lay down, this push and pull in and outside of me. Something expanding right behind my eyes, being pushed inwards but too large to contain. I wait for a few moments and it subsides...

Tweet Tweet

Current weather: 47 and sunny.
I took out the garbage in my PJs.
Then I mopped the kitchen.
Put away laundry.
Did a load of laundry
I've disregarded any attempt I once had to keep up with fashion.
My boss keeps telling me I look disheveled, I hope that doesn't mean she wants me to put in effort to look good.

I'm going to drink coffee all day and pretend yesterday didn't happen. I worked all day, and then came home, drank beer, watched Beth begin to make a skirt, made grilled cheese, and sat online with Brady until 1 AM.

I don't have school tomorrow, so I am going to go to Powells and sit and read books in the aisle. I'm going to stick to Women's studies, books by Karl Marx, wander over to African American studies, then maybe find a book about New Mexico (who wants to move with me? I'm thinking 6 months of desert), visit my sexist friend Bukowski, find a book about Socrates, and finish up with... the top level... ART. I want to find this book of letters Van Gogh wrote to his brother.

There is a blank ply wood board, gessoed and ready to go in my room. On an easel and everything. It's been staring at me for 3 days.
Color theory. No perspective. No ideas. I think it's going to be for birdie.
Must do another tarot reading.
Ill get back to you on that.

"Why are we all awake?"
My body is aching, which I attribute to the fact that I've forgotten how to sleep.
At night I attempt almost every form of pillow body combinations, contorting, and shifting myself around. Often times deciding to just give up and face the ceiling. Usually at this point I can hear that Laura isn't asleep either, I wonder if I should ask her to smoke, and drink some tea. But I never do.
In the summer when I couldn't sleep, I would make myself some coffee and go for a walk. I'd always go to this huge stone fountain on campus, just lie in front of it, close my eyes, and eventually fall asleep there, in the grass. And I'd wake up with the sun warming my face.

Me and Bobby

I used to listen to "She Belongs To Me" by Dylan all the time. It was never a song I listened to with other people really. It was more like my own private song. A guide line on how I was to live my life.
I was an artist. I had everything I needed.
I never stumbled because I had no place to fall.
I was on a mission to find an Egyptian ring.
And I really did believe the law couldn't touch me.
Over and over I played it whenever I was alone driving in my car.

But then no one ever gave me a trumpet for Halloween. Nor a drum for Christmas. I never found an Egyptian right.. or never tried hard enough to find one And I realized, maybe I wasn't that girl.

However, I have always felt very connected to that whole album. I'm not sure if it has to do with Maggie's Farm, because I don't really like that song. I feel as though perhaps there is a connection regardless if I like the song or not. I mean, what's in a name? But I really like the rest of the album. Even if every song does kind of sound alike. When you are inspired by a certain sound, I suppose you might end up making a whole album sound like that.

On a completely unrelated note, I did a tarot reading about my relationship and almost every card talked about distrust and deceit. Over and over again.

Exhausted

Woke up, it's only warm under this blanket. Someone popped popcorn for breakfast.
Waited with Mitchell for Tyler to pick us up, feel like we overstayed our welcome.
Bummed a cigarette off of Matt, for some reason the song Gangster's Paradise is in my head.
Got car keys, brushed snow off car.
Drove to the grocery store
On the way smoked the cigarette, didn't expect it to be a Menthol but it was good
Made breakfast with Mitchell.
Watched a few episodes of Clarissa Explains it All
Smoked some grass, drank some juice.

Purest of laughter is most important.
I've been in good spirits lately.
The sun is always shining these days. And at night the world fills with fog, so thick you cannot see 20 feet ahead.
An exchange of, "Can you see me now?" went on for minutes. Though, it should have lasted longer.
We ran down to the river and walked out on the dock, to the middle of the river. And I walked away from everyone, looking at what should have been a hill of trees and only saw a dark shadow. And wondered how this place will impact my life.
I think I need to find more of my energy.
And maybe paint a pretty picture

hooowlll